


Flower Therapy.

by dimplesmcflirt



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU - Modern Setting, F/M, Tumblr Prompts, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplesmcflirt/pseuds/dimplesmcflirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard.” from bittersweet truths. </p><p>Or the one where gardening is a part of Clarke's grieving process and stealing her flowers is a part of Bellamy's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Therapy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Susie](http://bittersweet-truths.tumblr.com/) t for this awesome prompt that really took on a life of it's own.

Clarke Griffin learned to tend to a garden with her father, among other activities they enjoyed together, getting their hands dirty, picking out flowers, and the less often but not unheard of tree, was her favorite thing. It had actually started with a peach tree they had started to cultivate on her fourth birthday. It was heavy work maintaining it, planning and caring for it so it would live a full life. You had to keep other plants at least 18 feet from them, and take care of weeds and infestations, there was also the matter of pollinating and harvesting, but as long as everything was done correctly it could live to about twenty years. When Clarke was seventeen her father passed away, in no shape to care for it, soon after so did their peach tree.

Less than three years later her mother remarried, and they moved to another town, to a house that had been even bigger than theirs, but Clarke never spent too much time there, since she spent most of her time out of town for college. Still, Marcus made a point of letting her know she could make whatever she liked out of the front garden, and he'd make sure it was tended to while she was away, so before moving she had planted an assortment of white flowers. Roses, Lilies, Daisies, Chrysanthemums, Irises and Calla lilies. During the summers she often laid in her flower bed reading Alice in Wonderland.

It is during one of those summers, one where her mother and Marcus actually leave her alone in the stupidly gigantic house, deciding on having a second honeymoon in Paris, that she finds herself there. Picnic blanket spread on the floor, nice pitcher of lemonade and some mini sandwiches as she enjoys the warm, but not unbearable weather, until she hears the sound of footsteps coming over, and she perks up considerably.

It wasn't that Clarke was alone in the house, Marcus has a cleaning and a cooking staff, at night there's also a couple of security guards manning the front and back gate, it was more that she was usually, and by usually she meant always, left alone. Especially when she is in her garden. So it's particularly strange to hide behind the flowers as she notices the stranger coming up, he doesn't seem phased as someone who's likely trespassing should be, and he crouches down next to the beginning of her flower bed and actually starts picking out some flowers.

"Excuse me!" Clarke cries out before she can help it, propping herself up and dusting off whatever dirt might have found its way onto her summer dress. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" The stranger has the decency to look sheepish and a little ashamed as she catches him in this awkward position. "These are my flowers." She crosses her arms trying to look intimidating, but now that he's standing up again, she's not sure how intimidating she can look next to him.

Clarke isn't exactly the tiniest of girls, but she's not particularly tall at 5'5" either, and if she has to guess Mr. Flower Thief stands somewhere near 6 feet, so he's got a good couple of inches on her. He's also broad, lean enough, but well built, with strong arms and shoulders, he's wearing a light colored Henley that doesn't do much to conceal that, and she maybe spends a little too long looking in that general area because it's what's in her eye line, but she finally looks up at him. He's got intensely dark eyes that contrast her stormy blue ones, and a jawline that should definitely come with a warning. His skin is also a rich tanned color, and she's not sure how much of it is the sun, and how much of it is just him, but everything about him has her suddenly thinking about dark chocolate and toffee. It's not just their eyes that contrast each other, from heights, to her bright blond hair against his dark curls, her rounder figure and him all sharp angles, it was like someone was actively trying to paint them as the personification of ying and yang.

"Slow down, Princess." He finally speaks, and his voice is as deep and rich as she would have expected it to, maybe more. He's smirking now, and she's about 90% sure it has something to do with the fact that she's just openly stared at him for the last two minutes. Was he even staring back at her? She couldn't tell, she was too distracted by his general attractiveness. That's when her eyes finally catch sight of the flowers in his hand, and something snaps in her, resolve cursing through her veins. "You must be Clarke." Okay, so this is a new development to the situation, he knows who she is.

"I might be." She's tempted to add the bitch in front of the sentence, but she doesn't think it'll work in her favor just now. "Am I supposed to know who you are as well? Because whoever it is, you're not making a great first impression."

"No, right, that's why you needed a couple of minutes to appreciate my pretty face." His tone manages to encompass arrogance, irony and a little bit of self-deprecation all at once, and she's not sure how that works, but it does. He sighs, and hands her the flowers he's already picked, and she's surprised at how delicately he seemed to have done the work. "Sorry, I'm Bellamy, I'm Kane's TA at the university here? That's why I know the code to the front gate? He's mentioned it was your garden, you were just... Never here."

"Yeah, it's my garden." She crosses her arms even tighter around her chest to steel herself, because she hadn't expected him to call her out like that on her gawking. "I go to school out of state, that's why I'm never here... I don't think Marcus has ever mentioned you." Clarke presses defensively.

"You spend a lot of time talking about his work, do you?" Bellamy or so he says, counter argues, and she has to give him that, Marcus and her don't talk much, let alone about his work specifics.

"Touché. I'm pretty sure there are motion sensors somewhere that would have started an alarm if you hadn't come in through the gate anyway." She relaxes, but it's still tentative. "That doesn't explain what you're doing with my flowers?"

"I'm pretty sure these are mine by this point, since I've been doing this for a few months. Kane always gets some more for me to replace them, sometimes he asks me to take a look at the garden for you, make sure everything's in order." He offers, but it's not really an explanation and she's starting to assume a defensive stance again. "I'm good with plants." He adds in a sheepish smile.

"He could have at least told me about that, I still don't know what you're doing with them... I'm not sure I like the idea of smug stranger tending to my garden, key word smug, because I can't complain about it being a stranger too much."

"Look, I'm sorry you had to find out about me like this, or whatever... But I'm just getting these for someone, and... Well, I'm kind of late already. So, could we skip all this right now? I take the flowers and you give me a lecture later?"

Clarke's quiet for a moment, because this is the first time he looks actually vulnerable. Even though he didn't look as confident when she caught him red handed, this is different. There's something in his eyes, and she gets a bit lost between them and the splatter of freckles on his face, before she takes a deep breath, and lets her shoulders slump.

"Fine, we can skip this, you can take the flowers, but I'm coming with you." That's her final offer, and she makes sure it's there in the way she says it, that if he wants to leave with her flowers now, he has to take her with him. "I want to see this person you're taking the flowers too, make sure they're worthy."

"What, like whoever holds these flowers shall possess the powers of spring?" He's resorting to snark again, and she just pushes past him after grabbing her jacket from the ground, making her way over to the front gate. Soon she hears Bellamy's steps falling with hers. "I don't think... This is going to be what you're expecting, Clarke." Once again, his tone shifts into a softer, more open one.

"Is this your way of telling me your girlfriend isn't pretty?" She teases, arching an eyebrow as they step out through the main gate, where he's left his car outside. It's an old truck that looks well taken care of, and he holds open the door for her looking a little aggravated, he has to pick up some books from the passenger's seat to let her in. "I'm sorry, is it a boyfriend?" She asks, stepping into the car, and he just rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind her.

He turns on the radio, and he doesn't really say anything as he drives them off, so she focuses on looking around the car. If he's bothered by her snooping around glove compartments, or looking around the truck he doesn't mention it either. She's already got the books that were originally on the seat over her lap, there were a couple of books by the same author Jared Diamond, both studies into ancient civilizations and their success or downfall, and a book she read during her first year at college, The Secret History by Donna Tartt, Marcus had suggested it to her.

"Nice to see Marcus still has the same taste in books." She says pointing it out, as she moves to the glove compartment, and find some candy wrappers, a couple of what looked like grocery lists, some paper notes with jokes she felt like she was missing the punch line to, so maybe it's something between him and whoever writes these. There's a picture of a really pretty girl on her high school graduation day, and Clarke smiles at it, but doesn't ask him about it. Finally, something she'd expect to find in a young, attractive guy's clove compartment, a box of condoms. "Really?"

"I'm not the one poking through the glove compartment of a car that belongs to someone they've just met. So much for not wanting me around your flowers." He doesn't even flinch, and Clarke figures he has no reason to really, safe sex is no joke after all, she was just teasing.

"You're not making conversation and that radio station sucks, I'm sorry if I'm trying to entertain myself." She bites simply, crossing her arms again.

"And snooping through my things seemed like a more viable option than changing the radio station?" It's his turn to tease, and she responds by making a point of doing so, only stopping, when undoubtedly she found a station playing Taylor Swift.

"Better now?" She smirks, thinking herself triumphant, until the chorus of Bad Blood kicks in, as they pull into a red light and he turns to her, singing the words without missing a beat. Clarke is left speechless until the light turns green again, and Bellamy turns his attention back to the road, as she sings the rest of the song on her own with a smile on her face that's more amused than smug. When they park in front of the local cemetery Clarke frowns a bit to herself. "This is where we're meeting your girlfriend?"

"I never said anything about a girlfriend, you just assumed." Bellamy replies in a calm tone as he cuts the engine, and piles out of the car, careful of the flowers, before he walks around the truck and gets her door for her once more. "These are for my mother." He says as he holds out his hand to help her down from the car.

"Oh." Clarke flushes, mortified, her stomach twisting in a cold, uncomfortable way, and she looks down in shame. "God, I'm... I'm so sorry, Bellamy, I just... I didn't even consider anything other than." She takes a deep breath and stands up straight again. "Figured a guy like you would be stealing flowers for a pretty girl, that's all."

"It would have to be the prettiest of girls to deserve the prettiest of flowers, Princess." He smirks a bit, but it's genuine and sweet this time. "And they already belong to a pretty girl."

"You could have told me, you didn't have to bring me along. This is... Important to you." She ignores his compliment, really, because she doesn't know if he's flirting to deflect from the situation or what, it's just too confusing right now.

"You seemed like a woman on a mission, I had no idea how to stop you. Besides... I think my mom would have liked to meet the girl who's been providing her with such pretty flowers, and I also think this might be good for you." When she frowns, trying to understand what he means, he goes on. "Abby told me a bit about you, and your dad... Kane told her I took interest in the garden and they've had me over for dinner a couple of times, they know about my mother too, they've offered to help however they can with my sister too, Octavia, she should be inside." Clarke notices she never let go of his hand after finally stepping out of the car when he starts pulling her into the graveyard.

"My mom used to love gardening too, and cooking, and sewing... She was a regular Martha Stewart, minus the whole prison time thing." He smirks again, shaking his head slowly. "She died just when I graduated from college, I took a job teaching junior high, while bartending during the weekends for a couple of years so I could keep Octavia's custody, and then I applied for my masters program and here I am, with Kane."

"Actually you're here with me, visiting your mother's grave." Clarke offers lamely, but he chuckles anyway, and as they walk hand in hand she allows herself to feel some comfort from the situation, taking into consideration what he said about her maybe needing this too.

"Finally! You're late!" Someone calls out to them, and Clarke looks up to see the girl from the graduation photo with a stoic, tree of a man next to her. "We've been waiting for you, Bellamy Blake." Octavia, Bellamy has mentioned is even smaller than Clarke, so the drastic height difference between her and her partner is even more pressing. She holds himself in a way that makes her look taller, it's quite evident as she envelops her brother in a hug, either not noticing or caring that he's holding Clarke's hand. She has a really intimidating piercing stare as she looks at Bellamy once she pulls back, but it changes into a warm smile as she turns to Clarke.

"Sorry... I got caught up getting the flowers. This is Clarke." He apologizes and points her out, with his head so he doesn't have to let go of her hand, and she's thankful for it. She's finding real comfort in the simple contact.

"Flower Princess?" Octavia asks, as she takes a step closer, and Bellamy lets go of her hand, but before she can complain about it, his sister has wrapped her in a hug, that she's returning somewhat awkwardly. "I'm Octavia, I love your flowers, mom would have loved them too, thank you so much."

"Should I be aware of anyone else looking up to me as royalty? That's not the sort of pressure I want." She laughs as Octavia pulls back, but smiles a little bashfully at her. "I'm glad you're making use of my flowers though." If Bellamy considers telling Octavia about the confrontation between them earlier he gives no indication of it, as he leans down to settle the flowers by the grave and touches the thumb stone.

"I think Bellamy's the only one who refers to you like that really, and it's mostly in private." Clarke's not sure if Octavia means to sound as ambiguous as she does, but she doesn't think much of it. "I actually have to go, we've been waiting here for about forty minutes and we have a class to teach in half an hour. Can I trust you to look out for my brother?"

"Uhm, I think so? You can trust me to not go anywhere, at least. He brought me over in his car." Clarke chuckles, smiling what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

"That should be good enough for me. Come on babe." Octavia turns to the man, and he comes back over to her side, and nods politely at Clarke as he walks away with her.

"She's..." Clarke trails off but really, she doesn't even know what to say, because she has no words for it, so she just stands there next to Bellamy resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know." He chuckles and stands up so her hand slides down from his shoulder, along his spine, until it rests low on his back, and he takes it so he can be holding onto it again. "Imagine trying to raise that as a fifteen year old." He laughs then, and sighs willfully. "She's a force of nature, really."

"You should be pretty proud of yourself... I'm sure your mom would be too. You obviously did a really great job." Clarke offers in a genuine smile, even if she doesn't know Octavia, she can tell from their interaction that in the least she is a no shit taking but approachable girl. With great taste in men at that, if the fact that he came to Octavia's mother's grave with her, and waited for her brother for forty minutes said anything, was that he was pretty devoted to her as well.

"I definitely did the best I could." Bellamy breathes looking down at her almost bashfully, and she bumps her shoulder into his arm, because it's a walking contradiction that this man can't take a compliment on the actual hard work he put into raising his sister, but can tease her about staring at him for over two minutes.

"You're something else Bellamy Blake." She chuckles, trying to imitate the way his sister had called him earlier, shaking her head slowly, smiling as she turns back down to the grave in front of them. "What were her favorite? Flowers, I mean?"

"Calla Lilies." Bellamy tells her in a fond smile, with just a hint of sadness and she squeezes his hand in a comforting way. "What about your father's?"

"Orange Wild Lilies." Clarke smiles at him, nodding slowly. "All about them lilies." She chuckles then, remembering the times her father had pulled her hair back and settled a single white lily behind her ear. "He usually reserved those for my mom, often he brought her a bouquet, and whenever he did, he brought over a single white lily and tucked it behind my ear." Her voice is low and just a little shaky as she tells him that.

"So that's how your white garden came to be." He states, and she doesn't really realize what he's doing as he reaches down for the flowers, until he stands upright again, with a single white lily in his hands and turns to face her.

"Yeah, that's how it came to be." She whispers and her voice is faltering for different reasons now, as she turns towards Bellamy as well, like she couldn't help it, his presence proving to be more magnetic by the second.

"May I?" She blushes when she realizes what he means, but nods in agreement. Bellamy is gentle, gentle like the walking contradiction that he is, of snark and sweetness, smug and self-deprecating, a man who reads about the rise and fall of ancient civilizations and drives a truck, but gets called out by his much shorter sister and knows the lyrics to Taylor Swift songs.

He's gentle in the way he towers over her and he pushes her hair out of the way with such delicacy she could question if he's actually touching her. Bellamy sets the flower then, and after he makes sure it's secure he moves his eyes back to hers and offers her the most breath taking smile she's seen grace his lips, it calls attention to the dimples on his cheeks and the way his eyes crinkle. There's only enough strength in her knees left to keep her standing, because she's sure whatever extra power she might have in them has been obliterated by the force of Bellamy Blake's smile.

Clarke tries to offer whatever smile she can to correspond to that, but she's not sure how much success she has. All she knows is that Bellamy's holding onto her hand again, but his free hand is still close to her ear, tracing down the skin at the side of her neck really, and she can't think about smiling too much because she has to actively focus on breathing now and trying to keep her eyes open. She barely has success with breathing, and ultimately her eyelids fail her completely.

"You're quite something yourself, Clarke Griffin." She has time to hear him whisper, before she's overwhelmed with the feeling of him moving in, her eyes still closed, and his lips cover hers soon enough, and in true contradicting fashion, it's both tentative and demanding.

She can do what she usually does and overthink so many things in that moment, the fact that he knows her last name. The fact that they're in a cemetery, specifically standing in front of his mother's grave. The fact that she's just met him, and that she only did because he was stealing her flowers. The fact that she doesn't really do this sort of thing, what she does is overthink things, but she doesn't now.

Clarke doesn't overthink, she lets herself feel what it is like to be kissed by this handsome, captivating, flower stealing stranger, and more than so, she lets herself discover what it's like to kiss him back.

**Author's Note:**

> You have a prompt for me to? Come at me on [tumblr.](http://thesongwithin.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also it’s been brought to my attention that storing condoms in the car is a bad idea, so don’t do it kids? This has been a PSA.


End file.
